


Bunches of Smallish Stories

by rockinellie



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: F/M, Headcanon, Post-Movie, mini stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockinellie/pseuds/rockinellie
Summary: A bunch of shorter stories. Each chapter will be titled to give you an idea of what's inside, promise.





	1. Rock Bed

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a bit more silly. I like to imagine Branch is very practical. So he'd be all into back health.
> 
> I personally like my bed to be like a little cloud. So I don't get it, but whatever!

The entrance to Branch’s new home was a lot nicer than his old one. Instead of a secret trap door he had an actual front door made of wood with a handle and a small peephole and everything. The mat outside the front was the same as before, with big “Go Away” written across it, but now there was a little potted plant next to his front door that would bloom flowers in the spring. At Poppy’s request he had painted the front door so it wouldn’t be “plain and boring”. Now instead of brown, the front door was a lovely navy shade with a black border. So, all in all, it was an incredible step up from where he had been only a few weeks ago back in Troll Village. 

Poppy stood on his mat and knocked on the door, bouncing on her heels in anticipation. Today he had agreed to go with her into town and shop for new fabric so they could make him a new pair of shorts. Despite his insistence that his were fine, Poppy knew that they were ready to be retired. And if the right-hand man in saving the entire species couldn’t have new shorts who could, really? When Branch opened the door he was met with applause from the very excited girl on his doorstep. Swinging the door open all the way, he stepped to the side to let her in. She took the small step inside with a bounce, turning around to face him once she had landed.

“Are you ready?!”

“Not yet, will you wait a moment? I just need to pack a snack in case we get stuck out too long.” 

Rolling her eyes, she skipped off to explore while he stepped into his small and functional kitchen area. Ever since their adventure she had spent many days with Branch but usually they would go to the tunnels or he would help her with Queenly duties like speaking to King Gristle about how the Trolls were adjusting and things a little more serious. Today was all about the two of them going out and having fun and spending the day enjoying each other’s company almost exclusively. So for now, while he was busy, she had a moment to peek around his small home. The kitchen and entrance were one step above the main living room. Everything in his house was very muted and controlled as far as colors went, lots of earth tones and darker colors. The furniture was minimal but looked comfortable enough. Glancing back at him, and confident he was busy, she slipped into his bedroom. They hadn’t spent the night together (yet) and she was very, very curious. The door to the bedroom was plain and the room inside matched. Gently she eased it open so Branch’s sensitive ears wouldn’t notice what she was up to.

There was a wide, low bed that was an almost-perfect square against the back wall. A small rug that looked like it had been woven from old clothing lay at one side of the bed. A brown wooden wardrobe was shoved against the wall farthest from her, and a small lamp sat on top of it. No side-tables, no decorations on the walls, and besides a small book on his dresser it didn’t even look like he lived here. The bathroom door was ajar and she stepped across towards it, curiosity burning inside her. On her way she happened to bump into his bed—her shin hit solid stone. Poppy let out a small cry of surprise and then grabbed her shin, shocked. Before it even occurred to her that she was snooping on some level, Branch burst into his bedroom, his face a mixture of alarmed and annoyed. 

“Poppy! What are you doing?” 

Poppy gestured helplessly at the bed, “Your bed /attacked/ me!”

He snorted and rolled his eyes, but stepped forward to look at her shin anyway. Gently he held her ankle in his hands and looked it over. Once he was satisfied she was really just being dramatic he said dryly, “Maybe you should look where you’re stepping.”

“Unfair. Maybe your bed shouldn’t feel like a rock!” 

“It should feel like a rock, it is a rock.” 

“What?” Poppy dropped her leg at once, looking incredulous. She strode over to his bed before he could stop her, and flung the navy blanket to the side, revealing what she had begun to suspect: his bed was a low, flat, precisely cut out, piece of stone. For a moment she stared at the rock dumbly, but then she turned on him, “You do not sleep here.”

Branch’s arms were crossed over his torso and his eyebrows shot up. “Sure I do. Every night.”

“You do not.”

“I do,” Branch sounded puzzled and joined her at the side of his bed, patting it, “I’ve been sleeping on nice pieces of stone for over ten years.”

“Branch!” Poppy cried, touching her chest with both her hands, “That is so sad!”

“What? No it’s not. You know, it’s all that cushion that creates back issues. Hard surfaces are really good for your spine. It aligns your back. Not to mention it improves posture.”

“Well, that’s fine and all. But, Branch, think about your soul!”

“My soul.”

Poppy ignored his flat tone and carried on, “Yes! No wonder you were cranky for so long! I would be cranky too, sleeping on a flat rock! I know that this is going to upset you.” Her hand rested on his shoulder and he rose an eyebrow. “But we’re going to have to postpone fabric shopping. Instead we need to find supplies and build you a mattress! Come on, we’ll have Bridget help us! I saw plenty of scraps of large fabric in the palace. And she’ll be delighted to help!”

“Poppy. I am not trekking all the way to the palace to make a mattress. Can’t your friends—the ones connected at the hair—help? I mean, if you’re so set on this.”

“Oh you’re right!” Poppy grabbed his hand in hers, pulling him towards the front door, “Come on, I’m sure they’ll be so excited to help!”

Somehow Branch doubted anyone wanted to spend their day helping him sew a mattress and stuff it, but whatever, they were her friends and this was her call. Poppy was quick usually, but due to her excitable nature she always travelled faster when she had something to do. So Branch had to run to keep up with her skipping up the stairs of the Troll Tree, rushing past other Trolls who simply stepped out of Poppy’s way. He wanted to stop and ask someone how often this happened, why they knew to move, but she hardly slowed at all until they reached a branch marked with a big, glittery “87”. Poppy let go of his hand to skip ahead, skidding to a stop outside of a stout pod. Shortly after knocking the front door was opened by the twins, who exclaimed over her and stepped aside to let her in.

They moved to shut the door and Poppy stopped them, “Hold on, I brought a visitor!”

“Oh, Branch!” Satin cried, smiling at him as if she knew a secret. 

“We didn’t expect both of you!” Chenille agreed, casting a knowing glance at her sister. Either Poppy didn’t notice or she didn’t care and only smiled in response. Branch narrowed his eyes at the two but said nothing.

“So, girls!” Poppy said, “I was wondering! Do you have time to help Branch and I make a mattress?” 

The twins exchanged a look of surprise and then both turned to look at Branch. Surprised, he only held his hands up and they both smiled in response. Unsure of what exactly they expected him to be wanting this mattress for he shifted uncomfortably. Poppy’s friends were nice, and welcoming, and they had been incredibly patient with him since his colors had come back. Once his colors had returned to him he had tried to engage more and honestly he was kind of a mess. Despite having sung and danced with everyone at “Trollstice” he still got uncomfortable and worried sometimes. Poppy didn’t hold it against him and if he went missing partway through a party she wouldn’t hunt him down until after it had ended, bringing him cake and telling him what he had missed. Honestly, everyone had been incredibly kind to him and incredibly good to him given his track record for “ruining” everything.

“Oh, Poppy, we’d be delighted to help!”  
“Absolutely we’ll help you, Poppy!”

“Great! Branch has all the measurements but I thought you two are much faster at sewing than we are! Plus, eight hands are better than four!” 

“Yeah,” Branch said slowly, “But let’s try to remember that this is a bed for me. So, please…” His gaze shifted around their pastel, sparkly home. The couch was seafoam, the throw pillows sequined, the walls were bedazzled somehow, and the rug had gemstones around the edge. Which was fine, for them, but not for his very serious and earth-toned home.

Chenille laughed, “Oh, honey, we know.”  
“Don’t stress so much, Branch,” Satin agreed.

They took Poppy to another room, talking fabric, while they asked him to write out the measurements and get the sewing supplies from the bookshelf. Maybe, he thought bitterly, they misunderstood what exactly he had meant by him telling them this bed was for his personal abode. Why had they taken Poppy back instead of himself? As soon as he thought it he realized they’d taken her into their bedroom. Well, okay, maybe more Trolls than just himself appreciated some privacy after all. Using their dining room table, he wrote down dimensions on a small piece of paper and set out the sewing kit. Before he could look around and snoop the three girls came back, holding bundles of fabric.

“What do you think?” Poppy asked, showing him her armful. It was satin-y, smooth to his touch, and a dark navy with lighter swirls of blue through it. “They didn’t have anything darker.”

“Sorry Branch.”  
“We also brought some greens.” 

The twins held out some neon green fabric and he waved it off, smiling at Poppy. The twins nodded and set the green fabric by the door to their room. Between the four of them, the sewing went by quickly. To Branch’s relief they did not ask him to sing along unless he wanted to and he spent much of the time sewing in silence while they sang song after peppy song. Although he had to admit it was impressive that the three girls stuck to their work while singing instead of breaking off to dance. They surprised him. The longer they worked the more he relaxed into the comfortable embrace of feeling like he belonged. By the time they finished he was singing along with them, to their utter delight. Once the mattress was sewn the twins folded it up and tied a bow around it so it wouldn’t come done on their walk home.

“We’ll stuff it as soon as we get back to his place,” Poppy told the grinning twins. She slipped out onto the branch, singing her good-byes.

The twins grabbed Branch’s shoulder as he stepped past them. Startled, he held back to look at them.

Chenille spoke first, “Branch.”  
“Be gentle.”

Embarrassed and more than a little confused he nodded and said good-bye, racing after a twirling Poppy. 

True to her word, as soon as they got back to his house Poppy helped him collect soft flower petals and helped him stuff the mattress. They decided together that they could simply place it over the rock bed and create a firm-but-soft mattress for him. The sun had already set below the horizon and they worked in the dark, singing and talking and generally just enjoying their day together. It had gone better than Poppy had hoped! Sitting on his floor, filling a mattress, she was happier than she’d been in days! When they were finished Branch started to zip up the mattress and she ran to his room, offering to clean the stone off so they could lay the mattress on top. With both hands she playfully tried to shove the pillows off, only to let out a little cry. Despite shoving them hard enough to send pillows flying, they didn’t budge! She felt a sort of dropping in her stomach and in disbelief she tapped on the pillow. It made a thick, clunking noise under her knuckle.

“Branch!”

He appeared in the doorway, dragging the mattress beside him, “What?”

“Your pillows! They’re rocks!”

“Yeah. Good for the neck.”

Poppy groaned.


	2. Branch Scrapbook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After helping Poppy out with building a bookcase he spends the night and finds a Scrapbook she's made. Pre-my other stories, post-movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the way I write my own journals about crushes and people I don't think I have crushes on but so totally do. I personally like 80s songs, and was EXTREMELY delihted that one of my favorite songs was in this film. Total Eclipse of the Heart needed more. /sob
> 
> Songs:  
> Crazy for You- Madonna  
> Don't You Want Me- The Human League

It was about the time that the Trolls had upped and moved back to Troll Tree that everyone realized just how useful Branch was. During the move he helped the Trolls build wheelbarrows and other things so they could cart whatever they wanted from Troll Village to Troll Tree. When they were done moving everything over he helped them build things more efficiently, helped with the tunnels under the Tree that branched out to key points around Bergentown, helped safety proof the pods, and helped in his “free time” with small repairs to homes that Trolls couldn’t figure out how to fix. The first week back at the Tree had him running around helping everyone during the day and his nights were filled with his desperate attempts to dig out his new home at the roots. 

Day nine at the Tree brought rain. Trolls, as a species, saw most things as joyful so Branch had spent his day doing his jobs alone while they all sang and danced in their first rain in a new home. It wasn’t until the sun had set well over the horizon that he was able to descend the main staircase to go to his dugout. And it wasn’t until he had gotten to the very bottom, stepped out into the rain, that he realized he really couldn’t work in the rain. While the home itself should be fine (barring he didn’t open the door) it wasn’t stable enough for him to feel comfortable sleeping in it while raining. Once he had smoothed the sides out and packed the dirt they would be fine. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t done that yet. Branch mulled outside the tree for a bit, considering his options. While the Trolls had been incredibly welcoming to him, considering everything, he didn’t feel comfortable enough to knock on any of their doors and ask for accommodation in the rainstorm. 

Except one.

Sighing, Branch turned around and ascended the stairs again, his legs burning from the unusual amount of stair-climbing he was doing lately. Poppy’s pod was off the main stair case, which connected almost directly to his root-based home. While his lay at the base, hers was in the top branches of the giant Tree, so walking there was exhausting. By the time he’d reached her branch, crossed it, and knocked on the bright pink door with a glittery crown painted on it, he was ready to sleep outside. It only occurred to him after knocking that it was entirely possible the Queen wasn’t even home. After all, he could still hear the party in some of the lower branches. Right as he decided to try the knob, the door swung inwards. Poppy stood in the entrance, her hair in a high ponytail, wearing some shorts and a tank top.

“Branch!” Poppy’s eyes widened in surprise but then she smiled, “Come in, it’s raining!”

“Is it.” 

Despite his flat tone, he gladly entered once she had stepped to the side. The living room was pink-very pink. Branch hadn’t been up to her place before, at least not inside, and he took it in quietly while she shut the door behind him. The walls were bright pink, the floors were a slightly-less-bright pink, and there was not a single piece of furniture in the room. Nothing was on the walls, either, save for a doorway and a door that seemed to lead into other areas of her home. Something else caught his attention: pieces of wood scattered the floor and there was a hammer and a screwdriver (bright purple) lying beside a small piece of paper and a plate full of nails and screws. Poppy skipped out of the room, asking him to wait a moment. Soon she was back, a bright, bright green towel in her hand. Almost shy she handed it to him.

“You don’t want to get a cold.”

Branch took the towel, smiling at her, “thanks. So what’s all that?” He gestured to the wood bits and she skipped over, flopping down where she had clearly been sitting when he’d knocked. Plucking the piece of paper up she sighed.

“A Bookcase, supposedly. I just can’t figure it out, I’ve been working on it for /hours/.”

“Really?”

“Yes! I even missed the party cause I have to get something up in this pod or I’ll just—ugh! I need some furniture, look at it! It’s sadder than your bunker!”

“Hey! The bunker wasn’t made for looks, it was made for safety. It would have worked, too, you know, if Creek had-“ Branch stopped abruptly, turning pale. Stiffly, he watched her, waiting for a reaction. 

Poppy didn’t react, and only waved her hand, “Yeah, yeah.”

Letting his breath out, he pulled his vest off, draping it over a hook by her front door to dry. Running the towel through his hair he joined her on the floor of the pod, taking the paper from her. Poppy did a double take and then stared at him, admiring his shoulders. Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t mind, because he was carefully looking over the instructions while he toweled his hair off. 

“This looks pretty easy,” He said, “I can help.”

“That would be wonderful. And in exchange, I can offer you my floor. I have some fluffy blankets you can borrow.”

So the deal was struck: Branch would build the bookcase with her and he could spend the night in the empty living room. True to his word, the bookcase did not fight with him as it had her. Within half an hour it was built, pretty and solid, and sitting in the middle of Poppy’s empty living room. They had painted it next, as per her decision that it wasn’t “truly a bookcase until it was fun”. Bright green to match—uh, well, he didn’t know, but it was her house. Once it was dried, and they had had snacks, he helped her push it under the big window. Next they carted out boxes of books Poppy planned on setting on the bookcase in the morning. Together they set up a make-shift bed of pillows and the fluffiest blankets she could find, and then she wished him goodnight and left him alone in her living room. 

The echoing emptiness kind of freaked Branch out and as soon as her bedroom door was shut he felt nervous. As a result, he found it nearly impossible to sleep, and tossed and turned for what felt like an age. Eventually, he gave up. Sitting cross-legged on his “mattress” he pulled a box marked ‘Scrapbooks’ over towards him. He popped the top and pulled out a few. Some had years written on the front, some had celebrations, and some had names. The three in his lap that had names on them were decorate in the style that Troll had. DJ Suki’s was musical notes, neon colors, and a myriad of drawings of bugs she used in her music. Guy Diamond’s was so glittery pieces fell all over him, his bed, and the floor. The third was plain, a brown color with bits of forest pasted to the front. Confused, he looked at the name, and then stopped and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was tired enough to sleep after all. When he looked back he was surprised to see that nothing had changed. There, above a carefully cut-out forest scene was his own name, in plain, gray and black lettering. Curiosity burned deep in his stomach as soon as he realized what he was looking at.

How old was it? When had she made it? It was gray, it was plain, this had to be before the Bergentown journey. Why did she have this? As soon as he went to open it he knew he shouldn’t. Whatever it was, whatever was inside, she probably hadn’t even told the Snack Pack, let alone wanted him to see it. Branch sat on his bed, his fingers playing with the lettering on his name, staring at the cover. Well, it did have his name on it. Taking a deep breath, he opened it, feeling his heart flip as the first page had a picture of himself. Peering closer he could tell he hadn’t exactly consented to having this picture taken. His mouth was open, sneering at someone off-camera, he was gray still, his arms were full of acorns, and it was all-together the most unattractive photo he’d seen of anyone. Underneath, in plain black ink, was written his name again as if she’d forget who’s boring book this was to begin with. The next page had more forest scenes, the left page had a bright sun at the top, filtering sunlight down to cute little animals in between trees. The right page had a half-moon, and glowing critters around the base. In the sun on the left side was a single word: Likes.

The Likes page had a short, concise list, written in golden gel pen; Being Alone, Quiet, Being Alert, Cautiousness. And then, under those, in hasty writing: Oldies, Serenading, Romance (?). Branch blinked and peered at the page, wondering when exactly she had written this. Romance seemed new, like Bergentown new, but there was no way. There was a thin layer of dust over most of these scrapbooks, likely not touched since before Chef found Troll Village. The Moon held the opposite word: Dislikes. There was a large, lengthy list on that side: Parties, Being Loud, Pop (?) Music, Singing, Dancing, Being Bothered, Plain Invitations, Me. Branch shifted uncomfortably, running his finger over her small ‘Me’ and wondering how awful he had to be to make her write that in her scrapbook. Sighing, he flipped to the next page. It was blank, and for a moment he considered that’s all there was, but when he turned one more to make sure, surprise took him again. There were tiny versions of the invitations she had sent him, pinned to pages with notes written in flowery metallic pen about each one. There were two lists beside each one. One list was always scratched out and next to it was a new list of what he had said, how he had reacted, and why she thought that one hadn’t worked. At first she seemed to try to do it scientifically, but by Invite six she was casting about for any ideas she seemed to grab onto. The last one was the most recent, with a little note that said: 

Invite Twenty  
Completely Customized, including tiny Branch and his name  
Picture him alone, he likes alone  
Hand it directly to him, try to not be too public  
He’ll love it! 

Inhaling sharply, Branch ran his hand in his hair. Well. At least his not being at the party that last time had come in handy, he supposed. The next page seemed to be the start of a diary. For a moment he considered closing the book and pretending he didn’t know how awful he’d been to her. It only lasted a moment, however, and he read it with some trepidation: 

_I don’t know why he won’t just come to the stupid party! If he would just come, he might have fun! Would it kill him? Would he combust?  
….Wait. Ask Dad if Gray Trolls can combust if they experience joy._

Branch snorted but continued.

_Dad said no, Branch should be fine. I don’t know WHY then! Ridiculous!!! I go through all this trouble every time…well…I guess it’s not trouble. I like making special invitations for him, I just wish he’d come sometime. Just once. It would all be worth it if he’d just come once.  
And maybe we could dance together!_

Pausing, he considered how private this was, but pressed on. She had set it out here with him, after all.

_If he didn’t want the invitation, he didn’t need to stomp on it. I came back after everyone had gone home to get it and it was missing. Did he take it? Why? Probably to burn it. I don’t know why he hates me, I try very hard to be nice to him! Doesn’t he want to be happy for a little bit? I could help, I know I could. Maybe he wants me to try harder. I’m going to build a better invitation, add some glitter, make it sing? Hmm. I wish I knew what kind of music he likes. I’m going to try singing some around him, gage a reaction._

_Day one of singing-around-Branch went poorly. I started with modern hits but he didn’t like any of them. I think tomorrow I’ll work back a decade, and so on, until I find one he doesn’t glare at me over. I’ll update when I figure it out!_

There were small felt hearts here, pieces of glitter stuck to the side as if she’d been working on something else while she added “diary” entries to his scrapbook. In fact, each diary entry had a drawing or felt character next to it and Branch ran his thumb over the hearts as he blocked out all of the “you shouldn’t be reading this” vibes.

_Got him. He likes 80s. I bet he thought I didn’t notice. I found him alone, in the woods, like always. As soon as he saw me he turned around to leave! Rude! But as soon as he took a step I gathered up my courage and cried out: “Don’t!” He looked back, confused. I swear I can still feel my heart beating wildly up against my ribcage even hours later!! I was certain I’d crack my note for the first time in my life (!!!!!) but I pressed on anyway: “Don’t you want me?” His face was priceless, he dropped all of his stupid sticks. “You know I can’t believe it when I hear you won’t see me! You know I don’t believe you when you say you don’t need me!” Oh man, I thought he was going to /die/!! Haha, all my nerves floated away at his gaping mouth and staring. But when I giggled, cause I knew I had him, he got real grumpy real fast. I swear he was blushing (his cheeks were darker gray than usual) when he stormed off.  
Doesn’t matter. Got him. _

Branch remembered that as soon as he read the first part of her song. On his end, it had been a long day of collecting and walking back and forth from his bunker. When he saw her coming he really didn’t need to deny her invitation to yet another party she wanted him to be at and so he tried to escape. When she called out to him, it was a clear crisp note, but he hadn’t noticed the music in her voice just yet. Curious as to her brash approach he’d turned and was confused by her appearance: leaves and twigs in her ponytail, heaving chest, flushed cheeks…So he was willing to hear her out. But when she asked him if he wanted her, horror passed through him so quick it was as if someone had dropped a brick on him. Who had told her? How did they know? His thoughts traveled through his feet, through the earth, back to his home where her invitations were on shelves, where his books of hand-written poetry were stored. Poetry that was clearly written for her. His stomach dropped and he couldn’t breathe. The sticks hit his feet before he’d even noticed he’d lost feeling in his hands. Stunned, he’d stared as she continued on, his heart practically stopped. It’s okay, he thought, she didn’t seem mad or grossed out or much of anything besides her usual singing self. Maybe, if it didn’t matter, she’d forget and move on after clarifying it was true. At first he was willing to confirm it was true, laugh awkwardly and move on, but then she’d laughed at him. Embarrassment flooded him, knocking the shock and horror out of the way, and he’d stormed off to stomp around his bunker in a fit of generally being upset. To his surprise she never brought up his feelings again. It made sense now, that she was only looking for a genre.

_Maybe I should have picked a different song. Branch won’t barely look at me now. I replayed the words a few times and I’ve come to the conclusion he thinks I was confessing my feelings for him. I guess there were other songs to choose from, but that one felt the most like Branch…if you feel it, it’s easier to sing. Singing from the heart is always easier, even Branch knows THAT! Anyway, there’s no feelings there to sing from besides general companionship._

_Let’s Go Crazy. That would have been a better song. He’s still avoiding me, he runs whenever he sees me coming. I didn’t…think this through well enough. Of course he’d run, he probably heard how much of my heart was in that stupid song. Can’t blame him, I’d run too if someone I didn’t like at all confessed they loved me._

Branch had a hard time deciphering the rest, it was a mess of quick handwriting and scribbles and she had taped over a giant piece of paper in haste. Well, it was nice that he wasn’t the only one harboring deep emotions for the other. Lifting the paper up cautiously he saw in caps, Creek’s name sprawled out. Tapping his chin, he assumed she hadn’t meant to admit her own feelings and quickly shoved them where they belonged. The next few pages were lists of songs from the 80s, each with a small note next to them. He remembered her tracking him down, making sure she was singing when they “bumped into” each other in the forest. There had to be some kind of grading skill he didn’t know here, because there was a weird mix of symbols: hearts, stars, a rainbow, and a pie.

The rest of the book was blank except the last page:

_There is no way to convince him to like you, Poppy. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t. You gotta let it go. Choose happiness!!_

__Branch rubbed the back of his neck, mulling it over. Slowly he put it on the bookshelf and then slipped the rest of the Scrapbooks up there as well, as quiet as ever. When everything was put away he stacked the boxes by her bedroom door and climbed back onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep._ _

__The morning came too quickly for Branch and the lack of curtains in Poppy’s pod helped the sun fully wake him up before he was ready. It was only moments after he’d stretched out and rolled over to try to sleep a bit more that he heard Poppy’s bedroom door open._ _

__“Oh, Branch!” Poppy cried, and he rolled over to look at her. “I forgot you were here, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”_ _

__“No, I was up.”_ _

__Branch was trying to be natural, but he glanced nervously at the shelf and she curiously followed his movement. At first, she smiled brightly, opening her mouth to ask him when he had done it, but her gaze fell on the brown book marked with a gray ‘B’ on the side and her eyes snapped back to his. He had been staring, nervous, and all at once she knew exactly why he had been up._ _

__“Late night reading?” She asked, her tongue thick in her mouth._ _

__Shifting uncomfortably, he wondered if it would be worth it to lie. Eventually he said, “Yep.”_ _

__“Well!” Poppy said quickly, “That’s fine! It’s old, anyway. And it’s not like yours is the only one specifically made for a Troll, you know.”_ _

__“Yeah, I saw. I didn’t look through anyone else’s.” Branch stood up, nervousness leaving him when he saw how embarrassed his Poppy was. Cheeks flushed, eyes averted, oh man. He never got to see her actually embarrassed. Flustered, sure, but never actual _embarrassment_. Crossing the room, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing their cheeks together in a hug. After a moment, Poppy hugged him back, relaxing._ _

__“I was worried you’d be upset.”_ _

__“I’m not upset.” There was a pause and he broke out into a grin behind her back, “I just…Poppy, I have a question.”_ _

__“Okay, what’s up?”_ _

__“Just…” He pulled back, looking seriously into her eyes with his most dead-pan expression he could muster, “Exactly how long were you _smitten_ with me?”_ _

__Poppy’s jaw dropped open and she stared at him, her cheeks turning a bright magenta before she could even squeak out a response. Huffing, she stuck her nose up in the air and crossed her arms. Branch chuckled, which earned him a glare._ _

__“I was just wondering, I mean, the scrapbook seems kind of older and you’re clearly absolutely, madly, passionately in love with me.”_ _

__“Branch.”_ _

__“Don’t.”_ _

__Poppy looked confused, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to decipher what he was angry about, suddenly, as his smile slipped into a serious expression. Choosing to remain silent to hear him out, she groaned as he continued on._ _

__“Don’t you want me?”_ _

__“I regret letting you stay over.”_ _

__“You know I can’t believe it when I hear you won’t see me!”_ _

__“It’s time for you to go, Branch!” Poppy gently shoved him towards the front door, frowning._ _

__“You know I don’t believe you when you say you don’t need me!” Branch sang, breaking at the end to laugh. Poppy pulled his vest from the hook and shoved it at him, opening the front door. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay so you don’t need to look for me and pretend to accidentally bump into me while singing another 80s song?”_ _

__“Good-bye, Branch.”_ _

__Still laughing, he pulled on his vest. What a great way to start his day. Right as he turned to leave, he felt her hand on his arm. Turning back, he was surprised to be met with music._ _

__“What I’m dying to say,  
Is that I’m crazy for you.” _ _

__Opening his mouth to reply, he was cut off by her pulling him towards her for a kiss. Branch gasped when she pulled away and tried to kiss her again, but she slammed the door in his face. Chuckling again, he rolled his eyes and headed down to see the damage to his new home. Maybe the other Trolls were right. Rainstorms brought fantastic events._ _


	3. Creek's Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Creek had a not-so-great plan the entire time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I wanted to write about Creek as he's not the best. I thought it would be interesting if he was incredibly intelligent and cunning and manipulative. A friend pointed out the words in Poppy's scrapbook from my previous chapter in this writing didn't sound like her. While I knew they weren't her words, and she was quoting someone, I didn't realize it was Creek!
> 
> ~~Also I love him.~~

Over the past few days the Snack Pack had noticed that Poppy would disappear at random intervals. One moment she would be beside them, singing, and then she’d just be gone. At first they assumed she had something important to do but it quickly became apparent that wherever she went, she would return much sadder. The Snack Pack was confused but knew if Poppy wanted to share, she would, and so they let it happen for a few weeks. That was, until Creek decided to step up. It was no secret that he and Poppy were awfully friendly and that was by his own design. Once he had met the Princess he had made it his life’s mission to win her over, secure her heart, and secure her hand. While the King of the Trolls wouldn’t have an army or anything, he would live in extreme comfort and he would have all the power one could wish for. That seemed appealing to Creek, as he loved being special and being above others. As it was he could only behave as if his ideals were superior to those around him and someday he hoped to rectify that. 

But for that, he needed Poppy. Who was currently going missing and coming back a couple shades less pink. So, the next time she disappeared he immediately followed after her. She was fast and he chased after her through the underbrush, trying desperately to keep her in his sights. Suddenly, in front of him, she stopped so fast he almost careened into her. Quickly he jumped behind a mushroom and peered from under it. Poppy was standing half in a clearing, her clear voice calling out to someone he couldn’t quite make out. Slowly Creek creeped around the mushroom, repositioning so he could see both her and the troll she was singing to. To his not-so-great surprise the Troll she had sought out was none other than Branch. For some reason she was obsessed with him.

Creek’s eyes widened and he turned his gaze to the blushing, hard breathing Princess. Oh, no. Horrified, he watched the scene unfold. She sang some kind of song to him, he blushed and stormed off, she wilted. From his position, he watched her slowly make her way back towards the Village. After he was certain both Branch and Poppy were safely away from him, he paced the area, tapping his cheek with one hand. Finally, he stopped in front of the pile of sticks that Branch had no doubt dropped in his haste to get away from her. He picked one up and walked casually back to town. If his plan was going to work, it was going to take some planning. 

The next night was the time to put his plan in action. In the middle of the night he made his way across town, relieved that nobody was up to see him make his way to the Palace Pod. As a friend of the Princess he wouldn’t have received too many weird looks, but it was not wise to be visiting girl Trolls in the middle of the night unless you wanted rumors. He did not. Regardless, he didn’t want this little thing with Branch going anywhere. Anyone who took two looks at the stupid sad sack knew he had a big crush on the pretty Princess. Creek’s Princess. He needed her. If Branch figured out what was starting to develop, Creek’s run for King was going to be squashed before it had truly begun.

A guard greeted him at the entrance and it took Creek a solid minute to convince him to not sing his entrance for the King to wake up to, and to instead take him to the Princess’ bedroom. Which the guard did, after asking if he should sing later or the next day or when. Poppy’s room was down a short, regal-looking hallway. Quietly he stood outside her bedroom door until the guard was well enough away. Then he knocked and waited some more. 

Poppy was sleepy. When she opened the door, one eye was entirely closed and one was barely open. Her hair was a bit messy because she didn’t have the control to fix it in this state, and her nightgown was hanging off one shoulder. Rubbing her eye, she yawned.

“Creek?”

“Good evening, Poppy.”

Poppy frowned, “It was, I guess, before I was woken up. What’s wrong?”

Gently he pushed past her to enter her bedroom. It was pink, a shade or two darker than her hair, and the bed was big and cozy looking. The blankets were balled up in the middle and where she had been was outline by a small indent in the fluffy cover. On her nightstand was a photo frame filled with pictures of the Snack Pack and propped up near it was a small, hand-sewn stuffed Branch. Her crown sat on her vanity, things of glitter next to it. A tall, violet bookcase leaned against the wall by the door, covered in scrapbooks. Creek had never been inside of her bedroom before, so he took the chance to look around. Until she cleared her throat.

“You know I love seeing you, Creek, but um…it’s really late. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, Poppy.” Creek said, “You tell me.” He sat on the small couch that was by her vanity.

Poppy groaned, rubbing her eyes, “You came to play twenty questions?”

“No, no.” His hand patted the seat next to him and she sighed. Slowly she walked across the room and collapsed beside him, bleary-eyes. “I came because I felt a shift, dear Poppy.”

“A shift?”

“Yes, in your aura. It was so strong and sudden that it woke me up. I simply had to come and see you right away to make sure you were alright.”

“A shift in my aura?”

“Yes.”

“Like from what?” Poppy sounded a bit more awake and when he cautioned a glance she was sitting up straighter, her eyes still watery but now a bit more alert. 

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t have come if I had known. Now that we are here in person I can tell you that your chakras need aligning, however. Would you like to work on that now?” Creek observed her, resting his chin in his palm to look her over.

“What’s wrong with my chakras?”

“Again, I don’t know. However, I can see that your Heart and Third Eye chakras are muddied.” Creek leaned in, peering at her. Poppy leaned back instinctively, eyes wide.

“Heart…chakra…”

“If I know what the issue is, sweet Poppy, I can help you better. I can see there’s an issue, a big one judging by how brown your green is.”

Poppy didn’t know what he was talking about, honestly. Usually she’d just kind of let him go on about greens and chakras and mud, but tonight he had mentioned her heart. Which had been injured lately, due to Branch avoiding her so well that she hadn’t seen him in over a day! A whole day! Unintentionally she glanced at the small doll of him on her nightstand and then looked back to Creek, who hadn’t looked away.

“Okay. Could…could affection have to do with it?”

“Affection, sure, but this kind of damage…” Creek paused to emphasize, “It would have to be a lot of affection.”

Poppy shifted on the couch, looking away, “What about love?”

“That could be.”

“Romantic love,” Poppy elaborated, her gaze returning to him. For a moment Creek thought he had misunderstood the situation, her gaze was so intense. “For someone who hates you? Could that do it?”

“Yes, of course. That would explain the Third Eye, too, as you can’t make sense of it.”

Poppy nodded slowly. Creek smiled at her, kindly, and touched her shoulder. After a pause, she fell into him, wrapping her arms around him and sighing deeply. Creek patted her back, leaning his head on hers. Good. This was going well. Already she was trusting him, confiding in him, and gaining comfort and strength from him. If he could make her rather dependent on him, she would give up on this dream to be with Branch. Gently, he pushed her away to look at her.

“You can tell me all about it, Poppy, I am only here to listen. No judgment zone, anything goes.”

She looked doubtful.

“Really, honestly. Just tell me what’s wrong, and we can align your chakras and I can rest easy knowing you are taken care of, my friend.” Creek touched his chest with his hand, looking warmly at her.

“Okay,” Poppy said, “Let’s see. I don’t know when it started, honestly, I don’t even think it’s very fair. I didn’t ask to like him, or love him, or whatever is going on. I didn’t want to feel much of anything beyond helping him be happy!” Restless, she hopped to her feet, pacing her room, agitated. “It’s not my fault and I don’t deserve to be punished! I don’t deserve to feel so messed up! I didn’t do anything to him!”

“Who, Poppy.”

Suddenly magenta, she snapped, “Creek you know who let’s not play games!”

His deep sigh caught her attention, and when she looked at him he was looking patiently back. Sighing, she ran her fingers in her hair.

“Sorry. I don’t--you know who. Don’t make me say it out loud.”

“Poppy.”

“Branch,” Poppy whispered, pulling her hair over her face. “Are you happy?”

“Far from it, my dear friend. Do you honestly think I would be happy to see you so distressed over a Troll who barely knows you?” Creek asked gently, “You have so many friends who love you as you are. Of course, you like to make everyone happy. Perhaps this love you speak of is more a feeling that you have created to try to understand why exactly you’re seeking out Branch above all others. Perhaps, as you are his Princess, you feel you have failed him because he is unhappy?”

Poppy was tired. That much she knew. Sleepily she shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, I think perhaps you should think on it. In the morning come to my home and I will lead you through a meditation that will help you center yourself again, okay? Just try to give it some thought. Perhaps your feelings aren’t your own.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Poppy yawned again and climbed into bed as Creek made for the doorway.

He shut the door behind him, smiling to himself. Now that the seed had been planted, and now that she confirmed his suspicions, he could work much more efficiently. Next up was to not allow Poppy to sneak off to Branch. Perhaps he could convince the Snack Pack that she needed to be accompanied for a while, just until things had cooled it with the two of them. Keeping them separate was key, for he knew if they spent any time together at all they would both realize what exactly was developing. So, under no circumstances should he let Poppy spend any amount of time with Branch, and especially not alone. His work was cut out for him, but he didn’t mind. Being King would be ultimately worth it.

 

The next few weeks were spent in each other’s company. If Poppy didn’t show up right away he would lead the entire Snack Pack to the Palace to get her. Most mornings, however, she would show up shortly after sunrise to sit with him and meditate. It was to the surprise of neither of them that she was really quite bad at it. There was something about sitting still for periods of time thinking about nothing while she could feel and hear the world around her…it made her itch to move and dance and sing. Creek was patient, which she was thankful for, and he would calmly help her try to get back into their meditation.

To Creek’s delight, the Snack Packs soon caught on that they spent many days together, alone. This was good. Poppy was old enough to be dating and he wanted them to think she was interested in him. If she didn’t want them to know about Branch she would have to say she only wanted to see him so much because they were good friends, which would definitely raise suspicions. Perhaps if they truly believed she liked him they could help gently push her into his waiting arms. The key was to not look too eager for her to fall in love with him. A bit of aloofness never hurt anyone, especially not someone who loved _Branch_ of all people. So he pretended not to notice when she spent an unordinary amount of time looking at him, when she scooted quietly closer during meditation, when she placed herself nearby for hug time.

It was another sunny, bright day when he heard her tell-tale knock on his front door. Creek stretched out from his lotus position and slowly opened the door for her. Smiling, he stepped aside to let her into his living room. His pod was located on the “ground floor” as it were, so one entire petal of the flower was laid flat against the dirt, and led to his meditation garden. The pod itself was decorated in his style, which was…lively. 

“Good morning, Poppy.”

“Good morning, Creek,” Poppy smiled at him, skipping out into the garden before he could even shut the door. 

When he joined her she was already seated on her pink cushion, assuming the lotus position. Creek looked thoughtfully at her, stopping short to tap his chin. She noticed at once.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Have you heard from Branch?”

“Oh,” Poppy looked away, chewing on her lip and looking thoughtful. Lying was bad, but she didn’t want to admit she had snuck out in the middle of the night to see him. It had become apparent quickly after accepting Creek’s advice and help that they had no desire to let her see Branch and that wasn’t good by her, so she’d snuck off when they couldn’t possibly catch her. Finally, she nodded, resolute. “Yes.”

“I could tell.” Creek touched his chest with one hand, “You don’t look so great, Poppy.”

“It was fine.” 

“Was it?” He knelt in front of her, his hands gently taking her shoulders. “You can share with me, Poppy. I’m here to help.”

“It was fine, really. I couldn’t have expected a warmer welcome considering I knocked on his door around four in the morning. Luckily he was already awake, I can’t imagine what _waking_ him would have been like! He gave me tea while he got ready for…whatever it was he was doing.”

“Tea?”

“Yep! Flavored with blueberries! It tasted good, like scones. He offered me some kind of ‘power mix’ but I turned it down. I think that’s pretty good, right?” Her eyes widened, hope reflected there, and her handers clasped each other.

Creek considered his options for only a moment, “Oh, of course. I think that he was willing to share his food and tea with a princess who came to his house was very kind of him.” 

As soon as her title was mentioned her gaze fell to the grass and Creek allowed himself a smirk. Yes, good. While _he_ knew Branch didn’t care about titles enough to be courteous clearly Poppy was a bit more delicate. Uncertainty claimed her at once, her shoulders hunched a bit and she fidgeted on her cushion. When he let it sink in enough he smiled kindly again, gently lifting her chin so she’d look at him.

“Ah, darling Poppy. It will all be okay. I want to try something new today, okay?” 

A nod was the only response.

“Wonderful. I was thinking I could lead a meditation, since just focusing on nothing is not working so well for you. What we are going to do is this: I will talk to you in a calm voice and you will focus on what I’m saying, okay?”

“That sounds good,” Poppy agreed, sounding slightly unsure, “We can try it.”

Creek stood up, “Okay, close your eyes. Focus your breathing.” 

Poppy was trying. Honestly, she’d been trying for weeks, but she really didn’t think this whole ‘meditation’ thing was for her. Maybe singing her emotions would work better. As if anyone who wasn’t Creek knew what ‘Focus your breathing’ meant. Focus it on what, that’s what she wanted to know. She tried to relax, and took a deep, slow breath. At once she froze. Hands had wrapped around her from behind, gently touching her stomach. 

“Breathe here.”

Every piece of her was screaming something different. Poppy liked to be touched, she loved hugs and she loved contact! So logically this was totally fine! Then why did her body feel like it was on fire the moment she realized what was happening? Poppy felt her cheeks burn magenta and she noticed that she could smell him around her. Clearly he was rather close. Very close. Not that he smelled bad, of course, he smelled like peppermint and an herb he called sage. His hands were warm. All over her body yelled while her mind screamed back ‘It’s fine!’. They were friends, he was _Creek_ , and this was fine! Totally fine.

Quickly Poppy stood up, almost knocking a surprised Creek out. Blushing, she told him she ‘had to go’ and took off before he could ask much. As soon as she was out of his view she disappeared into the thick forest around their clearing, running through the underbrush to avoid being seen. Unfortunately for Creek, he had pushed a little too far a little too fast. Cursing under his breath, he kicked the grass next to their pillows. He had a large hunch as to where the girl was going: Enemy territory.

 

Poppy was not, actually, heading to Branch’s house. Instead she went straight to Satin and Chenille’s pod. The sisters lived in a higher pod, so Poppy had to wrap back around once she was well enough out of Creek’s range. The twins were always delighted to have her, and soon she was sitting on their couch while they sat across from her, finishing their breakfast.

“Oh Poppy,” Chenille said.  
“We weren’t expecting you so early!” Satin finished, smiling.

Poppy smiled back, “Sorry, I’m glad you were up! I went to Creek’s to meditate.” 

The twins exchanged a look, but said nothing.

“Uh, and I wanted to talk to you guys about him. Creek, that is.” 

“We’re here to listen!”   
“Yes, of course, how can we help?”

Poppy picked at the fringe on a pillow, unsure suddenly if she wanted to share what had happened. Maybe she could skirt around it. “Well, you guys know we’ve been spending a lot of time together. I was just wondering what you two think about that?”

“I think Creek is a nice guy.” Satin said.  
“I think his hair is nice,” Chenille added, “And that your friends love you and support you no matter what.”

“Well, see, I’m having a bit of an issue. Creek is really nice! We get along really well! But uh, a moment ago, he touched my stomach when I wasn’t expecting it and I felt overwhelmed and ran off.”

“Oh, Poppy.”  
Chenille nodded empathetically after her sister, “I think maybe you were just scared of maybe some developing emotions?”

“Developing emotions?”

“For Creek, honey.” Chenille clarified.  
Satin added, “Yes, it’s clear to anyone that you’ve been spending a lot of hours with him.”   
“And clearly you two care for each other very much.” 

Poppy considered this, staring at the wall while she mulled it over. The emotions and feelings she held for Creek were nothing like her feelings for Branch. Branch inspired curiosity, eagerness to help, and a strive to always be better, to one up herself. On the other hand, Creek inspired her to be herself as she was and was constantly reassuring her that she was enough. Maybe the feelings for Creek were so different because _he_ was so different. Yes, that made sense. If this was another kind of love, she wasn’t against it. She loved loving and where Branch balked, Creek opened his arms for her. 

“I think you’re right!” Poppy said suddenly, her face breaking into a wide smile. “Thanks for your help, guys!”

“Anytime!”  
“Of course!”

And with a three-way hug, Poppy left as eagerly as she had shown up. Creek was still in his garden when Poppy dropped in, smiling and pink. Curiosity took him over and he smiled at her, slowly standing up. She skipped over to wrap her arms around him in a hug, smooshing her face against his. Creek hugged her back, patting her back. Well, this was a nice surprise! Maybe he should scare her off to Branch’s house more often if she was going to come running back for hugging.

“Sorry I ran off.”

“It’s okay, Poppy. I just want you to know something, though.”

Poppy nodded, pulling from their hug to look at him. 

“If Branch doesn’t like you, you can’t change that. You shouldn’t have to change that, Poppy, you are a wonderful, beautiful girl. If he can’t see it, leave him in the dust. Choose your happiness.” Creek paused, pulling her back into a hug to whisper, “Choose someone better. Choose someone balanced.”

Slowly, she wrapped her arms back around him, “I will, Creek. Thank you.”

Creek grinned over her shoulder. Check mate.


	4. Drunk on Sparkle Flower Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poppy drinks at a party but doesn't realize how much she's had. Ends up at Branch's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't follow my personal canon like, at all. Most noticeably in the bed. I liked the scene too much to consider that he would have still had his rock bed. :P This drink totally exists but likely this scene would be different if it fit in with my others.
> 
> This is pre-movie. This is Broppy. :) Imagine all my stuff is honestly I'm so predictable hahahaha. My best friend and I considered that Branch would sing my baby Frank's songs so good. So, so good. So good. Also as a singer and a romantic, finding a partner who matches you so you sound good in duets is ideal honestly. I'm so jealous. And tired. I'm so tired. It's almost four in the morning this is rambling. I'm going to bed. Enjoy!!
> 
> Song:
> 
> The Way You Look Tonight by Frank Sinatra
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Every single thing Poppy does in this fic is based off of real, actual things that me (Ellie, the author) has ABSOLUTELY NEVER done while drunk. Absolutely not. And the basic reactions are NOT BASED at all on my best friend/cohorts desperate attempts to real me in. And no, I NEVER sang a Taylor Swift song terribly while drunk in a country bar. Have a lovely night and don't drink kids! (also I'm 25, so it's legal to be a moron, just not recommended)

This was the loudest party in the history of Troll Village. Princess Poppy herself had overseen the preparations, had set up the music, the food, the glitter, everything. The only thing she apparently had forgotten was what they called the “Sparkle Flower Power”. This was a drink made from the petals of the highest branches of the tallest trees: lime green flowers with bright purple centers. When their petals were crushed and put in jars to be buried underground, they fermented. It was an accidental discovery but the Trolls soon found that they enjoyed the loopy and easy feeling it gave them. There were four different kinds, depending on how long one left it in the ground, and they varied from two to six months. The longer it stayed, the stronger it became. Six months was much, much stronger in potency than two months. Thankfully, Suki had had a bunch of extra at her house and brought them so Poppy wouldn’t have to explain she’d totally, absolutely, one hundred percent forgotten about the drink.

It was an unfortunate circumstance that Poppy was not used to anything stronger than two months and that Suki only drank six months. What was more unfortunate was nobody had told Poppy the strength of it. As the night wore on, the more gone she got as well. It was about halfway through that the Snack Pack realized maybe something was off. While Poppy was normally excitable, she seemed sloppy and giggly more than usual and nothing they said could break her good mood. It was during a small chat with Biggie and Cooper that everything went downhill fast. She had been giggling over how much glitter had gotten on her (honestly she was coated) when Biggie had asked her how she was doing. Everything went downhill so fast neither of the Trolls knew what had happened. Stomping her foot she had told him:

“No! He’s not HERE. This is stupid! He should be here. I’m gonna go get him. Wait here.” 

And off she stumbled, heading up and out of the small dip where the party was held. Biggie glanced at Cooper, as if he had an explanation as to the small and quick outburst.

“She’s going to go get Branch,” Cooper said, “That girl’s got a big crush on that party pooper.”

“I doubt that, Cooper, she probably meant her Father or something.”

Cooper said nothing but knew, in his heart of hearts, that he was entirely correct. How nobody else saw the big, deep crush that Poppy was harboring for the sourpuss was beyond him. Neither of them brought it up to the others, however, assuming that Poppy would be back shortly with whoever ‘he’ was, father or not.

Meanwhile, Poppy was giggling and bumping into every single piece of grass or flower stalk. It seemed she was having a hell of a time making her feet obey her and it wasn’t as if she particularly minded. It was absolutely hilarious to her. Gleefully she made her way towards the giant rock that marked Branch’s bunker. Whenever her feet led her into another piece of foliage she giggled maniacally, clung to it, and then shoved off to run into another one. The walk had seemed a lot shorter on her way over here earlier in the day, honestly, but she didn’t mind that either. She loved visiting Branch, especially if he let her inside! The bunker was cozy if he wasn’t in full-on survival mode and she liked that he made her drinks- cold ones in summer and hot cocoa with vanilla in winter. 

But that was not her goal today. No, today her goal was to demand an explanation. A good one! Her legs walked her into the giant rock that acted as a front door, and she slammed both her fists on it, giggling as she realized she felt little to no pain. 

“Branch!! Branch!! Wake up!”

The tell-tale sound of the little peek-hole opening had her turning around and falling to the ground, peering in at him on her knees. Branch’s eyes widened in surprise but he only pushed the door open, popping out to look at her.

“Poppy, if you think I can sleep with people screaming about yelling timber, you are very, very misguided.”

“Branch!” Poppy seemed to have lost control of her volume as well, and by his expression she was being very loud indeed. She giggled and then asked, “Why aren’t you there?”

“Are you—because. I don’t like parties. How many times—“

“Nope! Not good enough!!”

“Poppy, please, let’s be quieter.”

“Nope! I want more!”

“Shh!” Branch gestured at her, straining to hear anything beyond her shouting. Man, they were going to be caught and then everyone would know where his bunker was! 

Poppy’s hands shot up, clumsily smacking on his cheeks. The sudden touch had Branch flinching, but he glanced around, clearly distracted. Leaning in close she yelled, “No shushing, BRANCH!”

“Oh. My god. Get inside.”

Branch grabbed her wrists, but she only fell to her side, giggling. Confused he leaned out, wrapping his hands around her waist and hoisting her down into the hole. Poppy went easily, giggling the whole while as he decided he should probably carry her down the short staircase to his home. Tossing her over his shoulder, he used his free hand to slide the door shut. He could feel her hands clinging to the edge of his vest and had to shift his head away so she wouldn’t kick him in the nose with her little swinging feet. Luckily, he was very strong from working out and carrying so many supplies to and from his bunker, so hauling her into the make-shift living room was hardly anything. Gently he lowered her onto the couch, because he could tell something was wrong.

“Branch!” She cried, sitting up straight once he’d set her down. Her hand darted out, grabbing his tightly as he moved to step away. “Wait!”

“We’re inside, please, stop yelling,” Branch was patient, “What?”

She giggled, trying to whisper but she just produced a raspy stage whisper, “I gotta question.”

“Yes, I can tell. What is it, Poppy?”

“How come you never come?”

“Come where?” Gently he tried to remove her hand from his, playing dumb to earn him time. In a quick move, she had both of his hands in both of hers. Backfired tremendously.

“My parties. Don’t you like me?”

“Of course I like you. We’re best friends.”

“Really?!”

“Yes, that’s why we do each other’s hair and paint each other’s nails.”

Poppy glared at him, her face scrunching up so tight that he almost laughed. Snorting at him, too, like a little angry puppy or something. 

“You’re not very nice!”

“Tell me more,” Branch was trying very hard not to smile now. “What’s wrong with you anyway?”

“Nothing. I just drank some Sparkle Flower Power and I think I need more!”

“A what now?”

“Sparkle Flower Power? It’s like…um…it makes you feel really nice and free and-oh Branch!” Poppy lit up right away, squeezing his hands, “You should try it! It’ll make you feel happy!”

Branch winced, “Yeah, that sounds like a problem waiting to happen, Poppy. I’m good. So how much of this drink did you have?”

“Mmmmm…” Her head rolled around as she thought and Branch wondered if maybe he should go get someone who knew about this substance. Creek? Suki? Someone had to know more than ‘what the hell is that’. “Seven.”

“Seven.” 

“Seven whole mugs!” 

“I see. How many do you usually have?”

“Two!”

“So we went from two to seven? Am I understanding you right?” 

Poppy nodded, her ponytail bopping from how vigorous she was moving her head. Again, she fell to her side, giggling wildly, yanking Branch with her as she had not let go of his hands. He almost crushed her, he had been taken by such surprise. At the last moment, he caught himself, landing with all his weight on his knee, which rested against her hip. The options seemed to be: Free his hands (unlikely), rest on both knees but twisted in the middle so she could hold onto his hands, balance on one knee indefinitely so his back didn’t get sprained, or straddle her so she could hold on. None of those seemed appealing besides maybe getting his hands back. Gently he pulled back, but her grip was like iron. Sighing, he gently pulled her up, hoping she would let go if they got close enough. Moving this giggling, loopy Poppy was a lot like hoisting sacks of flour around. When he pulled her against him she came, only her head hung back as she laughed. At what, he was unsure. 

“Come on, Poppy, help me out.”

At once he regretted it, as her hands looped around his neck, holding them together. Branch exhaled sharply but shifted, picking her up so he could get on the couch with her. Gently he set her so her legs were draped over him but she wasn’t in his lap. That was the best he could do, he figured, until she regained composure or let him go. 

“If you wrap your arms around me,” Poppy whisper-shouted into his ear, “It’ll be just like a real hug!”

“You know I don’t do hugs.”

“But you could!” Her cheek pressed against his and she nuzzled him. Certain her giggling hadn’t stopped since she got here, he was considering just…taking her back to the party as she was, giggling and clinging to him, and begging her friends for help.

“I don’t, though. Your friends do.”

“But I don’t want hugs from THEM,” Poppy snapped, pulling back enough to look him in his eyes, “I want a hug from YOU.”

Branch looked dubious but said nothing, trying to ignore that she had rested her forehead against his to stare at him. “Yeah, alright. If I hug you will you let go?”

“Maybe!”

“Do I have any hope of you letting go without a hug?”

“Negative!!”

Resigned, his arms slipped around her waist and squeezed her gently. At once he was greeted by squealing in his ear, so loud and sudden he was sure he’d never hear right again on that side. Stiff, he put his hands up suddenly in a ‘not touching’ motion, alarm written across his face. Poppy squeezed him.

“Why’d you stop?!”

“Because you’re yelling!”

“I was excited!!”

“Don’t be!”

Poppy nodded against his cheek. He could feel the smile on her and, rolling his eyes, he gently placed his arms around her waist again. The pent-up excitement made her practically vibrate in his arms. Soon her hands were back on his cheeks and she was staring him in his eyes again. The contact lasted for about half a second before she was clumsily trying to stand up.

“Let’s sing!!”

This was getting hard for him to follow, but he only lent her a hand as she stood on shaky legs. “Sing?”

“Together,” Poppy clarified, grinning, “I bet we sound perfect together!”

“Why’s that?” 

Shock crossed her face and she gripped his hand, staring at him, “Well, don’t you know?”

“No.” Branch was amused, despite trying not to look or sound any type of way. Whatever this stuff was, it made his normal Poppy even more wild and loopy (and clumsy). Hopefully it would wear off soon, or he’d have to make sure she spent the night. There was no way he’d be able to walk her across the village when she could barely stand, and carrying her would be embarrassing for him. Poppy’s sudden and loud laugh startled him.

“oh!”

His brows came together, “Well, aren’t you going to tell me?”

“Oh!” Poppy laughed some more, and then patted his cheek, “Yes.”

“Pop-“

“Well ‘cause we’re made for each other! Duh!”

It was Branch’s turn to laugh, though it was short and a lot rustier than hers. Poppy smiled, nodding to herself. Good, he got it. Suddenly, and harshly, she yanked on his hand, attempting to get him to join her in standing. Branch’s laugh died out and he frowned, pulling his hand away. When she collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles, he decided she was not to be trusted on her own.

“Oh, Poppy.” He stood and reached down with both hands, hoisting her up and straight into a cradling carry position. “Let’s get you to bed, Princess.”

“Are you gonna carry me all the way home?”

“Tonight, this is your home. You’ll die if I put you outside, and I don’t want to be caught carrying you home like a loser who got roped into looking after you.” Poppy’s legs pumped over his arm, making their short walk to his bedroom unstable. Gritting his teeth, he tried to make sure she didn’t run them into anything. 

“But _could_ you carry me home?”

Branch, frowning, only said, “Yes, of course.”

Satisfied, she only wiggled in his arms and sang something weirdly off-key and pitchy. Suppressing his laugh again, he tossed her playfully onto the bed. It was a mistake as soon as he let go of her. The quieter Poppy was gone immediately, pealing laughter erupting from her. As she bounced off the mattress and finally settled on it, her laughing did not calm down, and Branch felt that tell-tale drop in his stomach: this was his fault. Damn. Poppy wiggled on the bed, pulling his blanket around her like a cocoon.

“Okay, hold on,” Branch said, crossing the room to pull the blanket from her face.

“Goodnight!!”

“No, hold on. I need your crown, Poppy.”

“But it’s mine!”

“Yes, I know. And it’ll be really nicely wedged in your hair if you sleep with it in.” He held his hand out to her, but she only glared at him. Sighing again, he fought with her to finally pin her down and pull it off. Quickly he set it on the nightstand and put his hands up.

Poppy accepted this but inched towards the edge of the bed, giggling, “Sing to me!”

“No, goodnight.”

“Branch!!” Poppy cried, “Just once!!”

“Will you remember this?”

An honest question. He still wasn’t entirely sure what exactly she had drunk or why she was behaving this way. Maybe it was all a lie and she just had wanted to see exactly what she could get away with. But still, she seemed so floppy and silly that he couldn’t imagine that this wasn’t happening to her. Even now she was lying so her head was hanging off the edge of his bed, giggling and kicking her feet-until they got caught, and then a loud whining noise escaped her until he set her back on the bed and untucked her feet so they were free again.

“Prolly not, I think I drank a lot more than usual!”

“And if I sing, you promise to stop wiggling around like some kind of worm? And go to sleep? And not to bother me until the sun is up?” 

“Yes!! If you sing to me I promise it all! I’ll be yours forever!!”

Branch snorted, rolling his eyes. “Okay. If you promise me you’ll stop wiggling around like a worm.” He playfully poked her side, causing peals of laughter.

“Promise! Can I make a request?”

“Depends. What?”

Poppy looked hopeful, “The Way You Look Tonight.”

“Yeah okay. Lay down, stop sitting up.” Branch sat on edge of the bed, pulling the blanket from around her so she wouldn’t get stuck again. Quickly he realized if he sung almost under his breath she had to listen hard, thus eliminating and movement or noises from her. He was only halfway through when her breathing evened out and she relaxed. Smiling, he let the song die out and he gently tucked her hair behind her ear. Man, whatever that was, he’d have to make sure to stay away from it. Making a mental note to tell Suki in the morning about what had happened, he quietly left his own bedroom, leaving the door open a crack so he could hear if she needed him.


	5. Hungover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the last story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a slut for cute, sorry!
> 
> Anyway, this was a suggestion by Islenthatur on my last chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> PS: Yeah she's blacked out before, on her like, 21st birthday ( I think the fandom has agreed she's 23) when the twins took her out and she stole their drinks. Haha. Also...I go by US laws I guess? Whatever.

Poppy groaned. For some reason her head was absolutely _throbbing_. Groaning again she flopped over, burying her face in the soft pillow. Blearily she opened one eye, the brown pillow case blocking most of the view of her room. Sitting up abruptly she stared in horror at the pillow. Brown? Poppy had never owned anything brown in her entire life! Startled, she glanced around the room, too quick for her addled brain. A small whine escaped her as the room tilted and her stomach flipped. What had happened? Where was she? Closing her eyes to try to regain her bearings she thought over what she could remember of the previous night.

The lack of drinks had been alarming, Suki said she had some and they all helped her cart it to the party. Poppy had gotten a drink and then another and then—that was it. That was the last of her memories. There were some snippets here and there. Vaguely she remembered wandering through the forest, telling her friends she was leaving the party early. Beyond that, and especially how she ended up in this house, she remembered nothing. By the way her stomach was protesting and the way her head was swirling she assumed she had not stopped at two drinks, too. Slowly she opened her eyes and took the surroundings in. She was in bed alone, in a real earth-toned room. The comforter was forest, the sheets brown, the rug was woven from scraps of fabric-everything seemed practical and well-worn. Branch. Poppy was concerned immediately. Oh, no. What had she done? Hopefully she was too drunk to act on any weird, repressed urges she had felt, but maybe it worked more like liquid courage? She hadn’t blacked out in a very, very long time so she was at a total loss as to how she’d act around Branch. The good news was she knew he wouldn’t leave her alone. Likely he was nearby, waiting for her to come out. Falling back into the pillow she curled up, burying her face in it again. It smelled of forest and a bit of lavender soap and she tried to focus on that instead of the threat of losing all her stomach’s contents. 

Breakfast woke her up again. The scent had drifted in, slowly working its way through the pillow and to Poppy’s nose. She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen back to sleep until the scent woke her with a start. The scent was strong, over-powering, and her stomach was threatening her again. Letting out a low whine she pulled the blanket over her head. It was useless, now that her throat felt thick with the threat of heaving, she sighed and climbed out of Branch’s bed. The blue dress she’d worn to the party was up around her waist (clearly, she had tossed and turned) and she pulled it back down and ran a weary hand through her hair. Startled, she realized her little crown was gone. Glancing around she noticed it on the bedside table. Oh. Good. That meant Branch had tucked her in and likely argued with a drunk Poppy. This really couldn’t get any better. Leaving it there and letting her hair stay a general mess she clumsily made her way to the smell. 

It was worse, close up. She tried to focus on that and not the domestic Branch in front of her. The table had some toast, some waffles, and a heap of fruit on it. Branch himself was seated at one of two chairs at the table, sipping on some tea and reading a book. When she trudged into the room he looked up and closed the book with a snap.

“Hey,” Branch said.

Poppy grunted, her eyes barely open. When he gestured to the chair she fell into it, resting her forehead on the table.

“I made tea, would you like some? Suki dropped by to make sure you were okay this morning. She told me peppermint tea helps, and to make sure you drink a lot of water. She brought me some peppermint leaves, just in case I didn’t have any. Your friends really care for you.”

“Yeah, great. Hey, Branch?”

“What?”

“Shut up.” 

Branch snorted and opened his book back up. A little guilty from her snapping at him, she rolled her head to the side to look at him. As if magic, or that she hadn’t noticed before, there was a rather pretty teacup in front of her. It was white with a pink flower design around the edge. Poppy sat up, taking it in her hands. The smell made her stomach hurt, but she forced it down anyway. Despite how grumpy he was, she trusted him. After all, she clearly trusted him enough to fall asleep, drunk, in his house. Branch didn’t look over from his book, and there was a cover on the front so she couldn’t see what it was. When the tea was mostly gone she ran her fingers over the design.

“This is pretty.”

“Oh,” Branch looked up, smirking, “Are we talking now?”

Poppy rolled her eyes and frowned, “My head hurts. My stomach hurts. And all of my muscles hurt.”

“Yeah, it might have something to do with whatever drink you were drinking last night. You were something else.” Branch sipped his tea, closing his book again so she could have his attention.

“I’m sorry. I hope it wasn’t too bad?”

“No, you were just funny. You kept flopping around, like you had no control over your body. You couldn’t even walk, I had to carry you to bed.” He paused and then his eyes widened and he hastily added, “And then I left! Because you needed to sleep!”

“Right, thank you.” Poppy bit her lip before finishing her tea. “Suki’s juice is much stronger than mine.”

“Yeah, you told me. You also mentioned you drank too much.”

“Anything else…?”

“Oh, yes, you talk a lot,” Branch smirked at her blush and said, “You don’t want hugs from anyone else, you want hugs from me. And you touched my face, a lot. Let’s see.” 

“That’s okay. I’m good.” 

Branch held out a piece of plain toast to her and she took it, nibbling the edge and hoping her stomach would accept it. He left the room for a moment, taking her cup. When he came back it was full of a new tea that smelled so strange she was certain she’d throw it up. Glancing at him questioningly he shrugged.

“Do you want to keep the headache and stomach ache or do you want them to go away? I can’t promise it will work one hundred percent but it’s certainly better than nothing.” Satisfied when she took a sip, he sat down across from her, crossing his arms. “Let’s see…you wanted to sing a duet, because, if I remember correctly—we are perfect for each other. When I asked about that you clarified we were _made_ for each other. You asked me to carry you home, too, but I declined. How embarrassing, you’d definitely have woken everyone up.”

Poppy groaned, covering her face with her hands. Well, that was worse and better than what she had been worried about. It might have been foolish but she had been hoping she’d said nothing coherent. Clearly, she was coherent enough to ask for hugs and insisted they were soulmates-whether or not he had read it that way, she knew that drunk Poppy was not to be trusted. Silence covered the table for a few minutes as she tried to assess the damage done to her relationship with Branch and possibly Creek (she had spent the night in a man’s house!).

“Hey, Poppy.”

Glaring, she looked up.

“It’s okay, I didn’t tell anyone you were here, except Suki. I’m pretty sure you can trust her, she’s probably the most, ah, even of your friends.” Branch smiled, small and unsure, “It’s okay. Creek won’t know.”

“You know,” Poppy said.

“Of course, you spent the night here. But I was a total gentleman, I only took you to bed because you couldn’t walk. And then when you got there you had—Never mind, it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone else.”

“What did I do?” 

“You got stuck, in the blankets, so I had to uh, help. And tuck you in, because you were moving around so much.” Branch looked away from her at last, rubbing the back of his neck.

Poppy groaned. No more drinking for her, at least for a while. “Thank you. So, Branch. Where did you get this pretty cup?”

Branch considered her for a moment and then said, “It’s the only thing I brought from my old home. I thought it suited you. More than my crudely made clay mugs, anyway.”

“Aw, how sweet!”

“Next time you’re getting an ugly mug. Oh wait,” Branch looked surprised, “You’ve already got one!” And then he playfully kicked the leg of her chair, bumping her.

“Oh, ha ha. How mature!” Poppy stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Drink your tea, sloppy Poppy.” 

When she was done, she still felt like garbage. Branch could tell, and instead of suggesting she go out into the sun to walk home (Suki had said this would hurt her more than laying in his “weird underground hiding hole”) he suggested she sit with him on the couch and nap while he read. Poppy hated naps. Instead, she suggested she listen to him and he read aloud to her. Incredibly doubtful she could sit still that long, he sent her to the bookcase to pick a book out. Setting out the cups while she perused his books he suddenly realized that all his books were poetry—romantic poetry. Just as he was about to run over to stop her she came skipping to the couch holding one of the three novels he owned. Relieved, he sat with her on the couch and opened it. Unfortunately, he realized after starting it that all his novels were romances. Damn. 

At first, Poppy sat a few feet away on the couch, curled up against the comfortable back. As he read, she scooted closer and closer to him until she wormed her way under his arm, draping her legs across his lap and rested her head on his shoulder, her hands folded in her lap. Branch wasn’t one for a lot of physical contact but with Poppy it was a bit different. This amount of contact was a little much but generally he didn’t _hate_ it. Actually, he found it endearing from her. It made it a little hard to read, though.

“How come all of your books are romances?” 

Branch stopped, frowning, “Well, if you don’t like it, you can go home.”

“No, no! I like it! I was just wondering!”

“No wondering allowed.”

“That’s hardly fair.”

“The bunker is not a fair place, Poppy, it is cold and ready to end you at a moment’s notice.”

Poppy scoffed and rolled her eyes, “So dramatic for a guy with only romance novels.”

“I inherited them, thanks.”

“Oh. Well, then that’s okay. Continue, I want to know how Sparkle wins over Aspen.”

The day was spent curled up on the couch, drinking tea and softly reading to her until she fell asleep. When she finally passed out he carried her back to the bedroom, leaving a glass of water on the nightstand, and went back to his living room to clean up their mugs. Well, it looked like he had a house guest for a little while, at least. He’d have to go get more fruit for when she had an appetite.


End file.
